


Strawberries

by Khylara



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: Mycroft and Greg enjoy each other in front of the fire.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Strawberries

Mycroft paused in front of the roaring fire, a shining silver tray in his hands. He set it down on a nearby table, twitching at the cloth covering it with a tip of a finger. _Perfect,_ he thought as he surveyed the crystal flutes, the bottle of champagne, the smll bowl of juicy red strawberries. It was perfect, a lover's feast and ideal for the man waiting on the rug in front of him.

Greg watched as Mycroft slipped off his suit jacket off his shoulders and lay it aside. "You look good," he said, grinning. "Very posh. I like it."

Mycroft smiled. "as you are, my dear," he said as he sat down next to him. He held out a fat strawberry. "For you."

Obligingly, Greg leaned over and took a bite. "Delicious," he murmured, licking his lips. 

Mycroft's breath caught in his throat. "You are quite beautiful, my dear."

Greg moved closer. "And you look bloody wonderful," he stated, his eyes bright. Gray hair turned into molten silver in the dim light. He fingered the plaid pocket square Mycroft wore in his jacket. "I like this. Your colors?"

"Of a sort. We're part heathen." At Greg's confused look, he clarified. "Irish."

"Ah." Greg wound his arms around his lover's neck. "Explains the red hair."

Mycroft smiled as he ran a finger along Greg's jawline. "I do love you, Gregory."

Greg smiled. "you're the only one who calls me that," he said, still smiling. "Only other person who did was my gran."

"Grandmothers have special dispensation," Mycroft said as he fed Greg another strawberry. "Good?"

"Bloody marvelous," Greg said as he picked up a glass and clinked it next to Mycroft's. He took a sip. "Can I ask whay brought all this on?" He waved a hand at the tray.

"I can't celebrate having you in my life?" Mycroft asked. "Loving you like I do?"

"Didn't say that," Greg said, fighting back a blush. "Just wondering why, is all."

"I feel like celebrating a bit," Mycroft said as he sipped from his own glass. "The government is quiet for once, you've solved several important cases, no one is aiming for our heads...

"Always a good thing," Greg agreed readily.

"And Sherlock is behaving for once." The elder Holmes heaved a sigh. "A miracle, if you care to think of it in those terms."

"John, too," Greg said, agreeing. "I half expected a bloody row the size of Buckingham Palace after the last incident with Anderson."

Mycroft frowned. "He's stll causing trouble?" he asked. "I can have him sent to Nova Scotia if you like."

Greg shook his head. "No, that's all right. It's just every bloody minute of every bloody day. I intend to ship him to MI5 if he keeps it up."

"And what have our spymasters ever done to you?" Mycroft asked, drawing a laugh out of the other man. "The secret service have far more better things to do than deal with that odious man."

Greg nodded. "well...it would give me an immense bit of satisfaction." he held his hands out to the fire, savoring the warmth after such a cold day. "This is nice."

"It is, isn't it?" mycroft asked as he did the same. "I've always enjoyed a fire this late in the season. It warms this old barn considerably."

"Yeah," Greg agreed. He put a hand on Mycroft's knee before putting his head on his shoulder. "I've missed you the past few days."

"I've missed you, too, my dear. So very much." He brushed a kiss along Greg's temple as he heaved another, heavier sigh. "It's becoming very tiring, being so indispensable."

"too right," Greg agreed, snuggling close. Taking his hand, he twined their fingers together. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"And you've become mine. More than my life," Mycroft whispered, petting his lover's silver hair. "More than anything." he gave Greg a long, loving look. "I couldn't live without you by my side. Not and hope to survive for any length of time."

Greg looked up, his eyes shining. "Me either." he pulled Mycroft into a kiss.

They laid down in front of the fire, trading kisses back and forth. Greg sighed as the older man made his way down his neck and around his ears. "My...love," he breathed, using the nickname only he was allowed to speak out loud. "Please."

"Shh, my dearest," he said softly as he kissed his way down the detective's chest and along his shoulders. "It's all right. I'm right here."

Greg let out a soft moan as Mycroft moved still lower. "God, My," he murmured, clutching his lover close. "That...that's nice."

"Yes, it is. Very nice," he said as he gently took off Greg's shirt. "Perfect," he whispered as he laid it on the floor next to them. "So very perfect...my Gregory."

"My," Greg said, sitting up enough to watch Mycroft's long fingers caress him. "Please, love."

Greg's belt and shoes were next, tossed aside with abandon. "My sweet love," Mycroft said soflty, caressing wherever he could reach. "You should see yourself."

"Rather look at you," Greg said, reaching out. "Come here, love."

"Patience," Mycroft admonished gently as he divested Greg of the rest of his clothes. His own soon followed, scattered around them all over the library floor. "Now then my darling...tell me what you would like. This evening is for you, and you alone."

Greg shivered under his lover's knowing touch. "You," he said, his eyes bright as he squirmed under Mycroft's touch. "Just you."

Mycroft gently spread Greg's legs, moving in between them. "You have me," he said. "You always have me. Until the end of time itself." Both of them moaned as Mycroft slowly eased his way in.

He stopped, resting his forehead against Greg's. "Oh, my love," he breathed. "You feel wonderful. Tell me."

"My...please," Greg begged, his hands clutching at Mycroft's broad shoulders. "Please." A moan escaped him as his body rocked against his lover's. "Yes..."

"yes," Mycroft repeated as he moved, the firelight turning their bodies into gilded statues. He leaned down long enough to scatter kisss along Greg's brow. "You're so lovely like this, my dear. So very lovely."

"So...so are you." A choked off groan escaped Lestrade's lips as Mycroft moved on top of him. "So bloody good..."

"Perfect," Mycroft said again as he moved faster. He was close, but he wanted Greg with him. "That's it, dearest mine. Let it go."

Greg's eyes flew open. "Mycroft!" he shouted, arching into the touch as he came all over the other man's caressing fingers. Gritting his teeth, Mycroft came a moment later, his lover's name a caress on hs lips.

The held each other after, soothing one another with gentle touches. "Love you, My," Greg said, his voice slurring as his eyes closed.

Mycroft kissed his forehead, pulling him close to his heart. "And I love you, my dearest," he said as he watched the firelight play over Greg's sleeping face. He dozed off a moment later.


End file.
